


Shades of Shadows

by Askew



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst, Drama, Drinking, Drug Addiction, Everyone is a slytherin, Gilded youth, M/M, Murder Mystery, Partying, Romance, Slow Burn, Smoking, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 21:11:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16710088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askew/pseuds/Askew
Summary: In a world where magic and power are the two sides of the same coin, Sungjong was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and more than one trick up his sleeves. Once a spoiled kid, he’s now a young adult bored and wry to the core.When the heir of the most eminent family in town invites him to a party, he sees it as an opportunity to get wild for a while; but things are going awry, and someone’s going down.Who can he really trust? His long-time fickle friends, or his mysterious crush? Soon enough, he’ll have to pick a side.A dark tale of magic, romance and murder woven in a web of lies.





	Shades of Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ♡ So this is basically my attempt at writing something in between How to get away with Murder and Gossip Girl, I guess — with magic and gay characters because both those things make any story better ;)
> 
> (Oh, and I was inspired by this photoshoot : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ApXjyyRzHzo)
> 
> Special thanks to Lucy for beta reading this chapter ! ♡

_Look like the flower, but be the serpent under it_

—William Shakespeare

 

1

 

 

It was raining when he went out. The sidewalks were a blur of lights and fuzzy shadows, and by the time he made his way to the cab, Sungjong was soaking wet. Under the din of drops he could feel a flutter: the heart of the city, beating its angry pulse. Tonight the air smelled of steel and moonlight, gunpowder and gutters, old and new magic mixed.

“The Red House”, he requested.

From the driver’s seat came a nod and the car glided along the road. As he took his coat off, Sungjong caught a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror.

Remains of the past nights sharpened his features. His eyes were circled, his lips swollen and pale — a bundle of clues more flattering than not, considering how well he wore his debauchery. He had unbuttoned the top of his shirt in an elaborate and unkempt way; his posture attested both his wealth and the fact he didn’t give a damn. About it, or anything else.

His phone was buzzing. He ignored it.

“Take the outer loop”, he said, fumbling through his pockets for a cigarette.

He found one, rather flattened. With a snap of his fingers he produced a wick; the ashes flared in a crackle and blue smoke filled the car.

Opium relaxed him. He looked at his watch: barely midnight. Maybe he'll have time to sneak to the Royal's before the party. The invitation had taken him by surprise and he was not certain he could endure socialites for long. Already he craved mist and black diamond, fantasized about getting rid of his weight. He knew he could. The augmented magic twisted the gravity to turn you into speed and sheer force. A nasty stuff — _like everything that made this life slightly better,_ he thought with a grin.

Checking his phone, he read the texts his friend Dongwoo had just sent him.

_You out ???? Fucking sunggyu’s throwing a party at his place!!_

He sighed.

_I hope you’re not rushing to that decadents lair !!_

_I’m not,_ he texted back.

In fact, that was exactly where he was headed. Dongwoo was a sweet guy — the sweetest, really —, but not even his mom could be this protective. He wasn’t about to let him ruin his mood.  _I’ll call him tomorrow,_ Sungjong promised himself. _We’ll catch a movie or something._

Then he leaned forward to address the driver.

“Actually, I’d like to make a stop first, if that’s okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

From the front, the Royal’s looked like a sleazy club bathed in crimson neons. He went through the back door; it was worse inside. The cabaret’s lighting was just shitty enough that you couldn’t see the naked shapes on stage but still noticed the stains on the worn off sofas. Sungjong slithered his way through the crowd, down a slippery stair and a long, dark hallway. There stood an iron door. He passed it with a spell. On the other side, the chamber was humming with the throb of remnant magic. Once, it had been a backroom of another kind, and the walls were soaked in the ghost of that scent — evocations of surreptitious embraces assailed him as he closed the door. Another day, in another place, he could have been one of those shadows. Tonight he was after a less substantial treat.

“Jjong, dear. To what do I owe the honor?”

In the dark, Howon’s smile glowed like the guileful grin of the Cheshire Cat.

“Missed your cheerful presence. How’s business going?”

“Spare me the sweet talk. Molly? Meth? Cocaine?”

“You know I don’t do that.”

Howon’s smile faltered.

“Specials, then. Thought you dropped that shit… Gotta be tougher if you don’t want the crap to get under your skin.”

Sungjong shrugged. He _had_. Old habits died hard. And he wasn’t fond of being lectured by tacky drug dealers.

“How much?”

That was enough to bring the wisecrack back.

“Oh,  _now_ we can talk. I like that watch of yours. Wouldn’t mind getting one of my own… ”

Sungjong hissed.

“You crook. Done.”

He took the fancy watch off his wrist and watched it disappear inside Howon’s sweat-shirt. In return, the thug slipped a packet on his palm. It was a lot heavier than it looked and warm under his touch. Sungjong pocketed it.

“Bye, thief”, he said, walking away.

“See you, junkie.”

 

* * *

 

 

The Red House stood among the buildings like an emperor above his subjects. Old stone in the midst of glass skyscrapers, turrets and chimneys stuck in gleaming towers, it was all traditions and conservative sheen. There laid the core of magic, money, might. Downtown, in the suburbs, ragtag and bobtail dreamed about the mansion as they would dream about a legendary beast, but it was the monster whose hand fed them at last.

The Red House…. More than a place, it was an ideology. Sunggyu’s family was eminent enough that the sole name of it could make a man shiver. During the day it hosted a Palace of Justice. At night, once in a while, the living quarters held some of the most rakish parties in town.

He told the cab to stop a few alleys away. What he was up to required secrecy; a back-street should do.

Hidden in a corner, he unfolded the kraft paper with careful hands. Languorous coils of mist swirled around his fingers. As magic sunk into his skin and began to scatter, he felt the heaviness in his chest fade away.

Darkness shone in shadows; all he ever wished for burnt into a transient and coruscant life. His mind became clearer, sharper, more powerful.

Black diamond, heavens… That was the real deal.

 

* * *

 

 

The stuff in his system, he entered the mansion with a conquering step.

“Password” a doorman asked.

“Rocinante.”

A red carpet led him to an elevator. Someone else was waiting in front of the gate; he slowed down to inspect the stranger from behind. Instead of the suit most people would go for, he was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans. His hair was a ashy shade of dyed blonde. He looked cute, decided Sungjong.

“Hi” greeted the guy.

Dimples cut into his cheek. Okay — maybe more than cute.

“Hi” replied Sungjong.

They bowed to each other.

“Do I know you?”

“Not yet.”

There was a grinding sound and the elevator came down to their level. The doors slid open. A bellboy dressed in a redingote invited them inside.

“I’m Myungsoo” said the blonde as they went up.

“Sungjong. You’re new in town?”

A shrug.

“Just passing by.”

After a few seconds, the doors opened again. The noise of the party swept over them at once. The stranger looked at him, flashing another smile.

“Well, see you later.”

As he moved away, Sungjong hoped it was more than just courtesy.

 

* * *

 

It only took him a couple of minutes to figure out what kind of party he had landed in. Magicians and mundanes mingled in a dazzling and messy carnival; the heirs and the self-made wizards, the wealthy and the skilled, those who were born elite and those who had somehow squeezed their way to the top. At first sight everyone appeared to get along. A closer look undisclosed the truth: hatred and envy boiled under the sweet varnish of appearances. No ties or friendships there, but fleeting alliances built on a house of cards. Near the buffet he found one of the few persons he knew by name.

“Tell me what’s to drink”, he slipped as he joined her.

Kyungri shot him a glance.

“Depends on your needs. The champagne’s not so bad, the Macallan’s better if you’re not a pussy. Or you can try these out if you feel suicidal.”

She showed him a non-stamped bottle on the table. The liquid inside was lambent, softly stirring.

“What’s this?” Sungjong asked warily.

“Who knows? I think the strays brought it. I assumed you could be my guinea pig, she scoffed.

“Keep wishing.”

He poured himself a glass of whiskey and relished it while she draw him a picture of the ongoing truces and upcoming quarrels.

“What about you?” she asked when she was done. “Hard to catch these days. Been gambling much?”

“That, and other things”, eluded Sungjong.

A knot of guilt gripped into his stomach; he drank it away.

In his bones the venom of magic spread like a slow disease. It was when it faded that Sungjong started to feel sick: crave crawled under his skin, he could hardly function, crushed under the burden of his own sluggishness. The drug was treacherous, for it only fed the dreams you could dream of, drew in the hidden well of strength inside of you. Not being able to access it freely was maddening. How many times had he tried, already? Each failure left him more anguished, weakened, hooked. By seeking freedom, he had lost himself.

Kyungri’s eyes narrowed, as if trying to pierce into his soul. She didn’t insist, though. Everyone had secrets. Up there you knew better than to knock on closed doors: you found a way to pick the lock instead.

“I’ve heard your dad’s been pretty busy lately. Mine, too.”

Both their fathers worked as high chiefs of the town’s Magic Security. Together, they hunted criminal landlords and naughty warlocks, dismantling shabby cults or more intricate networks, tracking the riffraff from the underground to the higher spheres of the society. The job was hard, risky, and they were paid generously for it. Neither Sungjong or Kyungri ever had to lift a finger in their life. They were heirs; spoiled kids. They should have been grateful for the easy incomes, but if anything, material comfort molded them into cynical, bored adults, desperate for purpose and entertainment.

“Gradually they’ll clean the area of its varmint… meanwhile, we owe them to pretend everything’s well and wondrous in Paradise. Cheers!”

They drank until the room was full and their drinks empty. As Sungjong’s mind became dizzier, he cautiously wandered away from her. He loved Kyungri’s mischievous comments, her wittiness, but didn’t trust his friend not to try and trick him into confiding. Many made the mistake of underestimating beautiful women; he did not. He knew just how acute and dangerous they could turn out to be, and Kyungri was no exception. A flower? More like a carnivorous plant.

He let his gaze hover around the guests until a shade of blonde caught his eye. _There he was_. The stranger from before leaned on a windowsill, a glass of wine in hand, lost in the contemplation of the city stretching beneath his feet. Something about the way he stood made him look strangely out of place. Without his jacket, he was a bit skinnier than Sungjong would have thought. The crystal chandeliers cast shadows on his shirt, highlighting the sharp outlines of his waist, leaving enough room for imagination. He took a step forward.

A hand fell on his wrist.

“Not so fast, heartthrob.”

Slight lisp and cunning pitch : his host grabbed at his sleeve a moment longer before letting go. A corner of his mouth tucked upward.

“Fancy seeing you here. I was wondering if you would show at all.”

“I’ve been here for the last hour or so”, replied Sungjong.

“And you didn’t bother paying any respect?”

Sunggyu winced at him, a hand pressed against his chest.

“I’m hurt” he breathed in an exaggeratedly offended tone.

Sungjong remained unbothered. Being the son of a police officer had taught him a thing or two, such as waterproofing himself from threats or, in this case, overly dramatic emotional blackmail. In fact, the sulky silence didn’t last ten seconds.

“So you noticed my new trinket”, Sunggyu smirked.

With a wink, he pointed at the guy on the windowsill.

“Collected him last week and not even bored yet. A fine piece of meat, if there is any.”

As he followed his glance, Sungjong let out a snort: he couldn’t figure out if he felt more curious or slightly disgusted. Sunggyu and him both shared a taste in men — and that was pretty much all they had in common.

“I wonder what he sees in _you_ , though”, he retorted.

Sparks of amusement flickered in Sunggyu’s gaze. He leaned on to pat him on the shoulder.

“Don’t be jealous, honey. I’ll be all yours again when I’m done with this one.”

Sungjong’s eyes widened.

“Thank you, I think I’m fine.”

By the time the music shifted to the next track he managed to slip through the crowd and disappear. His elder’s repeated courting didn’t make him uncomfortable, exactly; he was just cautious not to let him take it to the next level. Oh, sure, Sunggyu was hot — if sarcasm and smugness turned you on, anyway — but he liked his hook-ups a tiny less vicious. Besides, he was more into blondes.

Speaking of… His eyes wandered around the room, unconsciously looking for the Mysterious guy. Myungsoo, was that his name ? A squad of junk wizards had taken his spot by the window. On the dancefloor, couples were bumping frantically into each other and the bar had been stormed by a new wave of guests. Some of them Sungjong knew. Most of them he hated. A sigh escaped his lips when he took notice of Woohyun’s presence: the singer-magician sprawled into a sofa, probably boasting to his court already. His friend Sungyeol was looming over his shoulder, perched like a loyal pet on the nearest armrest. Insufferable, those two, and thick as thieves. At first he wouldn’t quite believe Sunggyu had invited them — but then _of course he would_. You couldn’t throw a party that big and avoid your handful of irritating guests. At least _they_ wouldn’t try to get into his pants. He slid to the living-room. More jerks, more loud music.

As for Mysterious Guy, he was nowhere to be seen.

 

* * *

 

 

It was three when he retreated to the bathroom, out of strength. He was covered in sweat and weary, done with everyone’s business. He had drunk too much and spoken to too many people — half of them he hadn’t ever intended to hobnob with— and he decided to call it a night. Hell, he had even _danced_! He slammed the door shut and sealed it with a spell. Then he tried to drown himself in tap water and, eventually, lit a cigarette. The opiated smoke filled the room in convoluted steams. Someone knocked on the door. He cast another spell: layers of silence fogged the walls, plunging him in instant and blissful quiet. His head rested on the tiles and he was about to dive into sleep when an intended cough made his heart skip a beat.

“Hm, sorry” said a voice.

He turned his neck so fast he flinched under the pain. The door to the nearest stall hung open, and on the threshold stand — nervous, disheveled, his clothes a rumpled mess — none other than the blonde, Sunggyu’s latest conquest, Myungsoo — or whoever.

“I wasn’t about to say anything” he kept on, eyes on him “but then you locked us in or something. And no offense but, dude, you don’t look so good right now…”

 _Unlike you_ , mused Sungjong. He knew better than to voice his thoughts, though. Careful not to stumble, he stood up, studying him instead.

“You’re free to leave”. He gestured to the door before bending in a mock curtsy. “The wards only work on the other side.”

“Oh” said Myungsoo, palpably relieved.

His brows furrowed. For a moment, he looked like he was weighting his decision, then he drew in a breath and took a step forward.

“I’d rather stay here, then. I’m not much of a party guy.”

Sungjong cracked a laugh. Blue smoke circled his face.

“You’re a Sunggyu guy” he pointed out. “Pretty much the same.”

The other shook his head, bewildered.

“You got one for me?”

He was talking about the cigarette. Sungjong reached into his pockets but couldn’t find any. In the end, he handed him his own.

“We can share”, he offered.

They sat next to the sinks, shoulders touching. A nice quiet ensued, cozy, comfortable. From the stalls they could hear drops of water pounding. The guy smelled amazing, couldn’t help but notice Sungjong. Like honey and twilight and something soothing, warm… He found himself leaning, just an inch forward…When Myungsoo glanced at him, he froze. Should he …?

“So you’re a magician”, said Myungsoo, stating the obvious.

“So they say.”

He grinned.

“I reckon you’re not.”

“Got my own skills.”

Sungjong’s brow rose. He grabbed the cigarette and took a thoughtful whiff.

“Yeah? Let me guess.”

His nose wrinkled as he studied his vis-a-vis. The creased clothes, the shiny earrings. The lashes and the smooth, golden skin… Damn. Too cute to be good. He made a gun of his fingers and blew — bang.

“You’re a hitman. Sly, clean, the snaky kind. Never a stain of blood under your pretty nails. Effective, nonetheless.”

Myungsoo held out his hand for the cigarette. Their fingers brushed faintly.

“I like this theory ”

His mouth parted into a smile and his voice got lower, seductive.

“So, tell me. Who should I kill?”

Were they flirting? Or did he just have too much to drink? Sungjong peered at the smoke blooming between his lips and felt his pulse tightening. He swallowed hard.

“Aren’t you supposed to have a target?”

“Maybe I do.”

A mild chuckle, then, and the echo unreeled along the tiles. When the sound hit the wall it was smothered, subdued by the silence spell. _He could murder me now,_ wondered Sungjong, _and no one would hear._ It was a creepy thought. He was hard as hell.

Would it be really bad if he stole Sunggyu’s beau right from under his eyes? _Yes_. In his own damn mansion? _Fuck this._

He reached over to touch Myungsoo’s temple gently, keeping his gaze locked to the other’s eyes. Which were hazy and soft, undecipherable. His skin was just as smooth as he expected it to.

“I want to kiss you”, he whispered.

His voice barely a growl, seeking permission. It came under the shape of a swift, quick motion — all of a sudden the cigarette fell, rolling at their feet and the next thing he knew, he had Myungsoo’s hands all over his body. His mouth was on his mouth, sweet and warm and hungry. He tasted like opium. Like champagne and perfume, caviar and honeymoon. This was better than sex — than magic, even.

He closed his eyes and let himself immerse into the kiss, the warmth of Myungsoo’s skin anchoring him to the moment — it felt like falling and rising all at once, each breath taken a gasp of reality, each kiss a dream.

A phone rang. He brushed it aside. Except it wasn’t his phone that was chiming — the tune too loud and wrong, the first notes of a song he never heard before.

He grunted when Myungsoo broke away, impatiently.

“You have to take that?”

On the screen, Sunggyu’s face was frozen in a playful wink. Sungjong shuddered.

“I guess not.”

And there they were again — holding, panting, trying to get as close as they could with all that fabric between them. Myungsoo’s hand ventured under his shirt and he arched his back, wrapped his palms around Myungsoo’s neck to pull him in a deeper kiss.

The ringing stopped, and started again. Then his own phone buzzed. Their focus flickered as the calls and the texts kept coming: something felt off.

“What the fuck?” Sungjong mumbled.

He reached into his pocket and looked at the screen. As he was reading, his face went blank.

“Get up”, he said urgently.

Jumping on his feet, he clenched his fingers and muttered a sharp word. There was a distinct crack; the hush of the room suddenly vanished. Behind the door, in lieu of the music that was playing earlier echoed a loud stirring, made of screams and footsteps, hustle, people sobbing.

“What’s wrong ?”

Myungsoo was staring at him now, a glimmer of worry in his eyes. Sungjong handed him his phone. Then he sucked in a breath and braced himself to say:

“Someone is dead. ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! If you made it so far, please let me know how you liked it ♡


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